


Eye of the Storm

by thingyoudowiththatthing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark fic, F/M, Loss, Torture, angsty, very explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 18:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15030806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingyoudowiththatthing/pseuds/thingyoudowiththatthing
Summary: This was written in the hiatus between 11 and 12 and this is my twisted idea of what happened to Sam before we knew.





	Eye of the Storm

Sam started to come too, only to feel a throbbing, aching pain on the back of his head. He tried to move. His hands were bound to the chair. The room was so dark he couldn’t make out a single shape in the inky blackness.Then his memories slowly started to come back to him along with the rush of emotions. Sadness, emptiness, anger.

“Mr. Winchester! You are awake,” a deep british growl sounded through the room as a bright light filled the room. The sudden change hurt his eyes but also filling him with defiance.

“I was afraid, you were gonna sleep through all the fun.” Sam looked up to see the face of his captor. A small man. No bigger than Chuck with a nasty scar running from the bridge of his nose all the way down to the left side of his jaw. His eyes were sparkling with a menacing icy coldness that sent a slight shiver down the hunter’s spine. Sam watched as he soaked a towel in the bucket of water sitting in front of him. His jaw clenched. He knew what was coming.

“You know, Sam. Can I call you Sam?” The man didn’t stop and wait for a reply, not that Sam had any plans of honoring him with one. He was busy trying to distract his mind. Dig deep to get away from what he knew was about to happen.

_He was in the field outside the bunker, watching you from a distance._

“This would go a lot easier, if you just told me where the pathway was,” the man continued as he stepped closer.

 _The pathway? What the hell was he talking about?_  Sam fought to ignore the question to create a more pleasing reality in his mind. A reality with you.

_He felt the warmth from the sun on his skin as he watched you. The way your hair fell down in front of your face and the way your nose crinkled as you studied the lore book resting in your lap filled him with happiness._

He was stepping towards you in his mind when his physical head was jolted back and a wall of water hit his lungs. He barely felt it. He barely felt his body struggling for air, because his mind was escaping to be with you.

_Slighting down behind you, he encapsulated you with his legs and wrapped his arms around your waist.Your warm laughter and the feel of your body pressing back against his filled him with a peace like none he had ever known._

The vision prevented him from fully feeling the pain of the brass knuckles pounding into his jaw and temple over and over again.

_Kissing your neck and tasting the sweetness of your skin._

Another wall of water hit his lung, forcing him to gasp for air as your eyes sent him a worried glare. Another jolt of pain coursing through his shoulder that nearly sent shockwaves of pain through his body as he hit the hard concrete floor and tore you from his mind.

“Get some rest traitor! I got ways to make you speak. Ways of forgetting whatever, you use to ease your mind with.” The lights went out. He was left alone in the darkness again. Sam’s eyes filled with tears. Not from the pain coursing through his lungs. Not from the pain shooting through his shoulder or the throb on his face where the swelling had already started. But from losing you. From being brought back to a reality that no longer had you in it.

He thought of you. Your beauty and your laughter. Your strength and courage. He thought about how you would want him to fight instead of letting them break him. He thought about his brother, and the tears started falling from his eyes. He needed to be as strong as his brother, had always been. Dean would not let this break him. He always fought back, from whatever the world had thrown at him. No matter what he had been put through, he had always been there to protect and look out for his little brother. Not even Hell had been able to hold him down forever. He had fought his way free of Purgatory. Held the powers of the mark at bay for a year. Sam was not sure he knew how to do this without him. He didn’t think he had that kind of strength, but he knew he had to find a way. For Dean, he had to find a way to fight back. Be like the brother he had lost. Fight, so he could get revenge for the both of you and maybe even bring you both back somehow if he didn’t die trying.

 _They say I’m a traitor. Maybe I am. All I know is I did what I had to do_ , Sam pushed himself off the floor stumbling through the darkness until he found a wall, sinking down with his back against it. _I have always done whatever, I had to for them. And I will do it again. They won’t break me. They can do whatever they want to me. I will find a way out of here. Cas is still out there…._

Sam’s eyes started falling shut in exhaustion. He wasn’t sure how long he slept or if he slept at all. It wasn’t until white light filled the room once more that he opened his eyes. He was grabbed roughly by his shoulders by two men who threw him into a chair of needles. A sharp pain rang through his body as they tied him down, the weight of his body making the needles pierce his skin and dig into the flesh on his thighs and back.

Unprepared of the sudden pain, he screamed as the two men tightened the straps that held him down before leaving him with his torturer’s laughter filling the room.

He leaned down in front of Sam. His cold brown eyes staring directly into his, studying him. “You know, Sam. You could just tell us where The Pathway is and all of this would end. We would let you rest. What do you have to live for anyway? Dean and Y/N are gone.”

The pain prevented Sam from going to you in his mind. He fought to stay conscious. Fueled by rage and agony, he screamed at his captor. “I don’t know what the fucking Pathway is! How would I know, where it is if I don’t even know what you’re talking about?!” Though he fought to stay conscious, his eyes darted to the captor’s bored defiantly into the man’s malicious orbs. He hoped that he would see the truth in his own, but Sam didn’t give a damn if he didn’t.

The man walked across the room, his eyes locked on Sam’s. It nearly sent another cold chill of fear down his spine. This man reminded him of himself in a time long ago. A time when his soul had still been stuck in the cage with Lucifer. A time where he would have stopped at nothing to get the information he needed.

“You have been living in the men of letters holy grail for 3 years, Sammy. Somehow I don’t quite believe you.”

Rage coursed through Sam’s veins at the voice of the man he had come to despise more than anything call him by the same name his brother had. Only Dean had the right to call him that.“Don’t call me Sammy!” he hissed before spitting in the man’s face. The action only earned him a smile in return. Soon his small, veiny hands were on Sam’s chest and left thigh, pressing him deeper into the chair, down on the needles. Sam’s screams echoed through the room until his throat was too raw to scream anymore. His hands gripping tightly to the armrest of the chair, his knuckles turning white. Until consciousness left his body limp. The last sound he was aware of was the laughing of his torturer.

Sam came to gasping for air as yet another wall of water hit him in the face. No towel was there to stop it this time, and the full force of the blast set him on high alert. He fought against his restraints. Fought to get free. Fought to cough the water from his lungs, but all he could do was turn his head to the side in an effort to keep it from running back down.

He was lying on a cold, hard surface. Metal. An operating table. His torturer right by his side laughing.

“Sam there is no use struggling. You have a little something we need since you won’t talk. Did you know certain organs are of great use in spells and other magic? Or did you not read those books either?” Sam’s eyes opened wide as panic started to swell within him, and he began struggling against his restraints.

“There is no where to go, Sammy. Are you hoping your brother will come and save you? He is dead remember. So is your little slut. My colleague took care of that.”

Sam wanted to scream at him. Tell him to go screw himself. Tell him he would get out of here. Tell him that he would kill him and every other man of letters he could find, but no words were coming out and Sam felt the panic rise within him.

“Oh that is right. I added a little something to the water, Sammy. A little something that will help you stay awake and quiet for this. Unless you wanna tell me where The Pathway is of course?” The man’s cold amused eyes found Sam’s yet again, and Sam’s eyes shot daggers at him, only making the man laugh all the more.

“No? Well then let’s continue, shall we?”

Sam desperately tried to conjure a memory of you and his brother in his mind as the knife slowly carved deeper and deeper into his flesh. Blood poured from his abdomen, bathing the operating table and painting the floor a deep crimson that could only come from one thing. He shut his eyes and focused on pulling a memory forth.

_“Don’t you dare!” you pointed at Sam, and Dean backed away from him slowly._

_“You think you can put salt in my pie and get away with it?” Dean raised a brow at her as he stepped closer._

Sam was vaguely aware of the crocodile shears his torturer pulled from the fire. Half aware of the pain they caused as they dug into his wound, pulling his kidney from his body. He held on to you. Held on to Dean. To his family.

_“And red hair dye in my shampoo Y/N, really? We need to teach you a lesson!” Sam leaped up, trying to catch you, but you squealed with laughter and escaped his grasp only to jump right into Dean’s arms._

_“I got her! Go turn on the cold water, Sammy!” Dean laughed as he threw you kicking and screaming over his shoulder and carried you down the hallway. Happiness coursed through Sam’s veins as he watched his brother and Y/N. His family. His home._

Sam became fully aware as the repugnant, vile sound of his kidney leaving his body filled the room, and he screamed. He screamed for the brother he knew could no longer hear him. He prayed to Cas to come and find him. He prayed to whoever was listening to take him off this earth. To take him to Y/N. To take him away from here.Then the room went dark, and consciousness left him yet again.

Sam had lost track of time by now, of how long he had been locked away in his small confined prison.  He lost track of how many times the lights had flickered on and off. Of how many times his captor had come into the room questioning him. Inflicted pain. Pain caused by indescribable instruments he thought only existed in his most hellish nightmares. Most clear in his mind was the rack, tearing and pulling at his limbs until the wound on his back ripped open, and his blood once again drenched the floor until the wound was burned shot by his captor.

He was shaking now. Not only because the room was cold and damp, but also from pain and from loss. Loss of will. He wanted to die. He wanted this to be over. He wasn’t his brother. He wasn’t his dad. He might have lived through Hell, but back then he had a glimmer of hope. He had his brother to hold on too. He had Y/N. He had a family. Now he was alone. He had nothing left to fight for. He wasn’t even sure if Castiel was still alive. He truly had no one left.

Sam pressed himself closer to the wall, seeking comfort. Hauled up in the small space where he knew glass didn’t cover the floor, glass he had found out was there the hard way when he had tried to get the plate of bread and cup of water they sometimes left for him by the door. His feet were bare, his clothes torn. His hair stuck to his face. He was covered in sweat and blood. Broken. Beaten.  Sam had never felt more alone in the world.

Then his voice sounded through the room. The voice of the man he had come to fear as much as Lucifer himself.

“Sammy? We know you miss your family, so we decided to let you have a look into their Heaven.” Sam sat up a little straighter, still afraid to believe the words.

“It was easy. They share a heaven, you see.” A bright blue light flashed through the room before Sam had a chance to react or prepare himself for what was happening.

Y/N’s laughter filled the room and for a second, Sam felt a wellspring of hope bubble up inside of him. Then the image started becoming clearer.

_“Dean…” she moaned. Her head fell back in pleasure when Dean’s hand wandered up the side of her dress. His hand cupped her breast. His hips pinned her to the wall. One of her legs came up to wrap around his hip and pull him closer to her core. Dean rutted against her, moaning into her ear._

_“I’m so glad Sam’s not here.”_

_“Me too.” She pulled him into a fiery kiss, raking her nails through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “We’re finally rid of him,” she forced out between kisses._

_She grew impatint and pushed Dean away slightly so she could reach his belt. Her hands struggling to loosen it at first “I want you, now!”_

_Dean let loose a little chuckle and reached to help her with the offending leather strap. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ve got me.” Dean quickly ripped the belt from the loops on his pants and pulled her into another searing kiss._

Sam’s eyes filled with tears as he watched his brother’s hands peel the dress from Y/N’s body while his lips plundered her mouth. Undressing her quickly without ever breaking contact.  _This is not real. This can’t be real. They wouldn’t._

Sam sprang to his feet as he watched his brother push himself inside his girlfriend, and start to fuck her against the wall.

“It is not real.” His voice was barely a whisper at first before rising to a rage filled roar . His trust in them no longer wavering. “This is not real!” Sam yelled through the room and ran forward into the image conjured before him just as it disappeared, but not until his feet were cut ribbons by the glass littering the floor before falling upon it no longer caring about the pain. Tears streamed from his eyes. A part deep down inside of him wished it had been real. At least then there would be a way to bring them back. At least then his brother and Y/N would be happy and floating away into nothingness. At least then he would know they were at peace in heaven and not stuck in the vail, not willing to let go of him.   

But it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t. The devastating images quickly left his mind when he realized the room was slowly filling with water. Freezing cold water. Sam intensively started struggling, but he soon found himself pressed against the ceiling, heaving in his last breath before being completely engulfed by the water. He began struggling, no longer wanting to die. He fought his way to the surface of the water, no longer able to avoid the glass that was now floating all around him. Cutting his skin. Piercing into his flesh. Almost swallowing a piece as the rush of water pulled him under. Coughing up blood from his lacerated throat along with the sharp piece of glass. He kept fighting. Fighting for his life. Fighting for Y/N. Fighting for Dean. He couldn’t die. Not until he was sure they were safe. Not until he had his revenge. Water filled his lungs and his world went black. He wasn’t aware of the room being drained until he landed on the hard concrete floor, struggling for breath yet again.

He had barely begun to regain control of his breathing when the sound of steps made him look up to see a fist hurtling towards him, and the room went black once more.

Sam felt a sharp pain to his chin and throat. He tried to move his head but stopped when a jolt of pain shot through his body. He repeated the motion again only much slower, unable to comprehend what caused the pain at first until he felt the pain again. He paid attention to it’s location and suddenly remembered a depiction of an old french torture tool from one of his old college textbooks. Heretic’s fork! He knew he couldn’t move. If he did,  even just an inch, he could slash his throat open. Y/N’s face popped into his mind’s eye, and for a moment he thought about moving. He thought about ending it all in that moment, but then he refocused. Refocused on the muffled voices sounding from the half open door.

“Give me a few more days! I almost have him. He is breaking. You saw his reaction yesterday.” Sam recognized the voice as his torturer, but the second voice was the one that made his blood run cold. It was the voice of your murderess.

“No, we are moving him. Our scouts called it in. The Angel and a blonde woman were spotted in near Nottingham. He is closing in on us. Our orders are to move him tonight.”

 _Nottingham. I’m in England?_  Never once had Sam thought he had left the States.  _The angel - Castiel was alive. He was looking for him._  Sam felt a rush of defiance course through him, and the fight return to his body. He was gonna get out of here.

The interrogator was clearly agitated when he entered the room. There were no witty quips of maniacal laughs. He strode forward and ripped the fork for the device, slicing Sam’s neck along the way. Sam let out a gasping breath, as tension he didn’t realize he was holding left his body. He turned his head to look at his captor, but he got no more than a glance before he brought his fist down hard on his temple, plunging him into darkness once more.

Sam didn’t feel them carry him through the corridors of the manor. He didn’t feel them load him into the awaiting truck in the courtyard, nor did he or anyone else notice the figure lurking in the dark.

No one saw the green eyes that were laser focused on Sam’s lifeless body as he was unceremoniously tossed into the back of the truck. No one saw his clenched jaw or his eyes darken as he sent a silent prayer out to his angel.

Sam slowly came too, to the calming sound of the wheels turning beneath him. It was similar to the sound he had fallen asleep to and woken up to his entire life, but the roar of the Impala’s engine and his brother’s humming along to old rock tunes, were missing to complete his illusion.

He struggled to push himself up into a seating position. His entire body aching from the countless abuses it had taken. He struggled to make his eyes accommodate to the new lighting. A natural light seeped through the small window at the front end of the truck, not the complete darkness he had grown accustomed too, nor brainstapping pale white light that had come with his interrogator. After a few minutes, he finally gathered where he was. Or rather where he wasn’t.

He was out of the room, and in the back of a small truck. A storm was raging outside the small window near the driver’s cabin. The sky was cloudy and dark and ominous, just like the storm building in Sam’s mind as he thought back to that day. He had no idea how long ago it was anymore. It didn’t really matter.

He thought back to hugging his brother goodbye, feeling like he never wanted to let him go but knowing he had to be strong. If not for the world, then for his brother. He hadn’t needed to worry about him too.

He thought about the sky clearing and knowing that his brother was gone. Knowing he would never see him again, would never again hear him make a stupid joke or find his shirts smelling like beer after Dean had ironed them.

He remembered how he had taken solace in Y/N’s hand finding his, her body leaning against his as she fought back her own tears, fighting to stay strong for him, and then he remembered how she had been ripped from him too. How Castiel had been torn from the bunker and how Y/N’s body hurtled to the ground, blood pouring from her chest as she took the bullet that had been meant for him.

He no longer fought to hold back his tears. He let them stream down his cheeks as he thought about her struggling for her last breath before dying in his arms. Before feeling the sudden impact to the back of his head and waking up in  _the room_  God only knows where was.

He watch as a bolt of lightning ripped the sky open, and he swore revenge. When the truck stopped he would get out. He would break free somehow. He would find every last remaining legacy, and he would kill them all. He would avenge her. He would get her and his brother back, even if it would be the last thing he ever did. He would make sure they were safe no matter what it cost. His time in that room had changed him. Changed him into someone, something neither Dean nor Y/N would recognize. Something they could no longer love, but he didn’t care He would have his revenge. 


End file.
